Miss Me?
by padfootsteps
Summary: Clay/Gemma one shot. PWP, barely even so. Just a drabble to start these two off.


Whenever the boys got back from a run it was a relief. No matter how hard she tried, Gemma could never get the aching feeling of worry out of the pit of her stomach when her husband and son were out of her reach. The feelings of paranoia and jealousy, however, that naturally developed when she _assumed_ Clay was fucking other women could be buried. After all, the matriarch had been dealing with this for ages. First with John and then Clay. It was a part of their lifestyle, and it was something all of the women had to silently accept.

But that feeling surged into her veins much more frequently after the Cherry incident – as she labeled it in her mind – as if Gemma expected Clay to return with the scent of another woman on him.

"Hey baby," she got as a greeting, his mouth curling into a wide and genuine grin. Clay's visage, streaked with bruises and open cuts, greeted her heart with a sharp pain. Naturally her arms wrapped around him, tightening around his shoulders. Then came the inhale – musk. Faded alcohol, cigar smoke, exhaust, all mixed in with the dull rusty hint that meant blood. But no perfume, no fruity touch. Then the exhale – the relief in her spreading visibly through her stance.

When Gemma pulled back to look at him her brow kept furrowed, as if in some way she was chastising him for getting himself hurt. "I guess you played fast 'n' loose with the advice to _not get yourself killed._"

"I'm in perfect workin' order, Gem." That tone of voice, she recognized it. His features had twisted up, one brow arched and a curl of a mischievous grin on his features which was all the warning Gemma needed.

Where she'd met him in the kitchen seemed like a suspiciously short distance to the bedroom when they'd been sucked into one another and begun to disrobe. The clothes came off in a flurry, the leather on both parts doing it's job of accentuating the right areas. Her lips were a sweet haven to him, but in that embrace Gemma found a challenge.

Her hands found his chest, giving a direct push so that his legs met the bed and he fell onto his back. For a brief moment when she pulled back, Gemma saw every slut who pawed at him and something vicious flashed in her eyes just before she took his lips again. She could feel the vibration of the moan from his throat before she heard it, her body pressing down against his so that his cock was swallowed inside of her.

Before long she'd thrown her head back, the expanse of her naked torso visible to him and as if they shared the same thought, he lifted to caress a breast in hand. That got her attention, and brief seconds later she'd smacked away his hand, her own fingertips sliding up his massive arms until she gripped his wrists. In the process Gemma had closed the gap between them, her dark hair flooding down and on either side of their faces. Clay looked pleasantly surprised, his voice even lower than usual. Lusty. "What the hell's gotten into you?" It wasn't even much of a question coming from him, because he didn't struggle against the bond of her hands. Not yet.

"A woman's got needs," she said before taking his bottom lip in between hers. Teeth drug along flesh and her pace picked up in sharp strokes before Clay outwardly resisted. "That's it – " he groaned out, like it was physically paining him not to touch her. Before Gemma could even blink he'd rolled them, his body mass covering hers in a matter of moments. His then free hands spread her legs, digging into her at an angle he knew touched all the right places. "Fuck!" Gemma bit into his shoulder, his tempo picking up while his hands roamed, her husband's attention fixated on her every pleasure.

Maybe that'd been her intention all along.

Their eyes kept locked in a steady gaze when Gemma hit her peak, his name an echo on her lips. The convulsions inside her sent Clay over the edge, her hand on the side of his face and body wrapped impossibly tight around him.

Moments later, after he'd rolled off of her, she turned her neck to meet his look again. "D'you – " _fuck anyone else?_ "miss me?" The familiar smirk of hers was back, and in response he lifted his arm, twisting it around her neck to draw their bodies close once more. "Y'know it, babe."


End file.
